Chapter Twenty-Seven: Sweeping Away All Obstacles

A loud uproar erupted in the spectator stands, the crowd utterly stunned by the scene before them. When they caught sight of the semi-transparent aura enveloping Yang Yan’s fist, their faces turned to expressions of shock and bewilderment.

“What’s going on?! Wasn’t it rumored that the third young master of the Zhang family was a useless cripple who couldn’t absorb or refine spiritual energy? How does he possess water-type spiritual power?”

“That’s right. The Zhang family patriarch, Zhang Tai, went to great lengths for this matter, searching the entire Jinhuan City for renowned physicians. It didn’t seem like a lie!”

The crowd whispered and debated, the martial arena abuzz with agitation as everyone expressed their surprise that Yang Yan could cultivate spiritual power and step into the Sense Spirit Realm.

Up in the Zhang family’s seats, Zhang Tai finally could not contain his excitement; tears streamed down his face, unable to hold back any longer. At the far end sat Zi Ling, who, though unaware of the specifics, saw Yang Yan effortlessly shatter Li Yang’s ferocious attack with a single punch and understood that Yang Yan was now beyond danger. The anxiety that had gripped her heart dissipated completely. The rest of the Zhang family displayed a range of emotions—some were delighted, some astonished, others guilty.

“Damn it! I never thought this brat would hide so deeply. He’s actually reached the Sense Spirit Realm!” Xu Tianlong’s scarred face twisted in anger as he smashed his fist onto a nearby seat.

“Not just the Sense Spirit Realm, but the peak of the second layer!” remarked an elder in resplendent robes sitting nearby, his tone calm.

“The second layer of the Sense Spirit Realm? Impressive! Zhang Tai, I didn’t expect you to be so cunning, playing the fool to lure others in… No matter what, the Xu family will claim first place in this year’s martial gathering!”

In the arena, seizing the moment when Li Yang’s arm was thrown back, leaving him exposed, Yang Yan gathered five strands of faint blue water-type spiritual energy into his left foot and, aiming at Li Yang’s abdomen, delivered a fierce kick.

With a resounding thud, Li Yang’s body convulsed as if struck by lightning. He was sent flying across the arena, spitting blood in midair before landing heavily upon the white jade platform, unconscious.

The spectators gasped, and many sharp-eyed onlookers noticed that the blood Li Yang spat onto the platform had strangely solidified into crimson ice crystals, appearing eerily unnatural against the pristine jade.

“Could this be…?!”

At the front of the stands, Elder Li Chengfeng of Azure Profound Gate suddenly rose to his feet, his gaze fixed on the frozen bloodstain and the trembling, ashen-faced Li Yang, his expression contemplative.

“A congenital ice-type spiritual body?!” Fang Kun, standing nearby, also sensed something amiss, his face changing dramatically as he cried out.

“That must be it!” After a moment’s silence, Elder Li’s face broke into a delighted smile, his tone firm.

A congenital spiritual body is the most direct measure of a cultivator’s innate talent, determined by their affinity for spiritual energy—classified into metal, wood, water, fire, and earth.

Yet exceptions always arise; the Tianyuan continent is vast, humanity has thrived for tens of thousands of years, and occasionally mutations emerge, producing congenital spiritual bodies beyond the five elements.

Such cases are rare in the cultivation world, but not unheard of. In the five hundred years since Azure Profound Gate’s founding, three special bodies have appeared: congenital darkness, light, and thunder. Though their attributes differ, their commonality lies in the heights they achieved on the path of cultivation, earning legendary status throughout the Flying Cloud Empire.

Now, blessed by fate, after centuries, a boy with a unique spiritual body has emerged in the modest Zhang family of Jinhuan City. With this inexhaustible source of fresh, high-quality blood, Azure Profound Gate is assured prosperity for generations—how could Elder Li Chengfeng not be overjoyed?

“The third round—Zhang family, Yang Yan wins!” Fang Kun’s declaration snapped the crowd from their reverie, a cacophony of disbelief rising as they stared at the slight figure on the platform.

The spiritual core is the foundation of cultivation, its importance to cultivators beyond question. The kick Yang Yan delivered, charged with five strands of pale blue spiritual power, though not fatal, was enough to scatter Li Yang’s hard-earned energy, reducing his cultivation to the Body Tempering Realm.

Yang Yan glanced at Li Yang, now sprawled like a dead dog, feeling no pity. The human heart is treacherous; show mercy and others may seek your life. The kind are bullied, the gentle are ridden. On the path of cultivation, relentless benevolence only leads to a wasted life, becoming the bones beneath another’s glory.

Under the varied gazes of the crowd, Yang Yan strode directly to the Zhang family’s seats, knelt on one knee, and spoke loudly, “Father, your son has not disappointed you!”

Zhang Tai had been lost in a daze, as if dreaming, until he saw Yang Yan kneeling before him, and then he realized it was all real.

Zhang Tai slowly rose and walked to Yang Yan, bending forward, his trembling hands lifting his son to his feet. Staring at that youthful yet resolute face, the tears he had held back finally burst forth, and he spoke in a trembling voice:

“Yan’er, my good son, you’ve done wonderfully!”

Gazing at his father’s finely lined cheeks and the graying hair at his temples, Yang Yan’s eyes reddened as well, tears nearly spilling over.

Yes! Time passes so swiftly—unnoticed, I’ve grown up, and my father has grown old.

“Now, I am no longer the ‘useless young master’ I once was. From here on, let me protect my father and the Zhang family!”

“Congratulations, Patriarch! Congratulations to the third young master for stepping into the Sense Spirit Realm!” Someone in the Zhang family’s seats was first to react, stepping forward to bow to Zhang Tai and Yang Yan.

Once one began, others followed suit, crowding around Yang Yan, offering congratulations and flattery with enthusiasm, their sycophancy plain to see.

Yang Yan paid little attention to these fair-weather friends, merely nodding in acknowledgment before heading to his seat. Seeing this, the crowd quickly parted to make way.

“Brother Yang Yan!”

Before he could take two steps, Yang Yan was enveloped by a soft embrace—a girl pressed herself into him. Who could it be but Zi Ling?

“You cultivated spiritual power and didn’t tell me, letting me worry for nothing…” Zi Ling’s cheeks were streaked with tears, her face full of grievance as she pouted.

“All right, I’m fine now! It was wrong of Brother Yang Yan, don’t cry…”

Seeing Zi Ling in such a state, Yang Yan’s heart felt as though it had been crushed. Since childhood, nothing frightened him more than Zi Ling’s tears. He gently patted her back, soothing her in a soft, comforting voice…